There are things I am afraid of. Some I succumb to; some I stand up to. The situations that I succumb to are my own doing. The one’s I stand up to are my own doing. Technically, not my own doing — inspired. The standing up, i.e.
I have been thinking I should write a post, about my grandmother (my mother’s mother) for a while now. The more we talk about who we are and who our family is, reduces the privacy we potentially have, on the internet. I have not tried to hide my identity on my blog for a while. I have been wondering if it makes sense if I have the right to “expose” the identity of my family members, without their consent. Especially, of my family members, who are dead, and I have no way of asking consent.
I care less when I post photos of the dead people on my Facebook profile — I wonder why I hesitate writing about them on my blog. Do dead people have privacy issues? Will they, from heaven frown upon my blog? I think it really boils down to the people looking down from heaven. In my head, they are the same people as they were on earth.
For now, I am withholding writing about my grandmother. Some other day, I may not think too much, and may write about her. Not today.
Grandmothers, grandfathers, grand-uncles, and grand-aunts, part of our parents, non-grand uncles and aunts, very young cousin sisters and brothers. At least one of each is in heaven. Each one of them is watching me, not judging, but kindly. I have loved them and they have loved me. And knowing each one of them intimately, I am curious about what they want me to say about them; and I am sure they are curious what I will say about them.
Yesterday was a wonderful evening, spent with (alive) uncles, aunts, brothers, sisters, cousins, nephews, and nieces. We never, for a minute mentioned our heavenly relatives. Yet they were with us.
We are alive and dead at the same time, some times. The reality of the gravity binds us to where we are, but we are able to travel, for that one instance, in the netherworld, and our happiness of having spent moments or years with those, who are absent, multiplies.
Slowly, one after the other this earthly family members will leave and join my heavenly family. I dread that day. We will miss “being” together, but we will never miss “being together.”
I will, I hope, learn, not miss you.